


Not Quite Friends, Not Quite Lovers

by kuhlaine



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, BadBoy!Blaine, Badboy!Kurt, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Minor Character Death, badboy!klaine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:14:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25389616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuhlaine/pseuds/kuhlaine
Summary: Kurt Hummel has very little faith left in the world. But, the world gives him Blaine Anderson.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Comments: 54
Kudos: 220





	Not Quite Friends, Not Quite Lovers

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much to Emily (dizzywhiz here on Ao3 / kurtstinypurse on Tumblr and Twitter) for proofreading this lil thing!
> 
> additional warnings for recreational drug use, and past minor character death

Kurt Hummel doesn’t want to make a habit out of hanging out in a parking lot, but he’s found that it’s the only place where he can get some fucking peace and quiet. He can’t spend more than five minutes at Robb Park without some WASP-y soccer mom shooting him dirty looks. McKinley is an obvious no go – every inch of the place is crawling with jocks and cheerleaders and band geeks even long after the final bell rings. The mall isn’t exactly his scene either, and the stoners have already claimed the underpass beneath the highway.

No one wants to hang out in the parking lot behind the Stop & Shop off the freeway – so that’s exactly where Kurt wants to be. He’s free to sit on the hood of his car and listen to music or smoke or toss carrot nubs at children without a care. An overzealous employee once told him he’d have to make a purchase if he wanted to stay in the lot. Her fellow employees had warned her it wasn’t worth bothering someone like Kurt – but she wound up learning that lesson the hard way when he proceeded to buy a single pack of gum and stuck the chewed-up wads on the handles of several shopping carts.

What’s arguably Kurt’s favorite part about this particular parking lot is that it’s quiet. On rainy days he can stay inside of his car and blast his music until he can feel the bass vibrating beneath his skin. People seldom approach him the few times he sits on the hood – they can tell by his scowl that he’s not exactly the approachable type. Occasionally an elderly woman will pass by and ask for help with carrying her groceries back to her car – he won’t say much but he’ll always help them out. Contrary to popular belief, he’s not heartless - he’s just an asshole.

Most of the time, he’s in his own world – so much so that he doesn’t even notice the kid in the scuffed sneakers and tattered hoodie until he’s standing right in front of him.

“Uh… hello?” Kurt says when the boy doesn’t say anything.

“Got another one of those?” the boy asks, nodding his head towards Kurt’s half-finished cigarette.

“And why would I give one to you if I did?” he snaps back. It’s not the first time someone’s approached him looking for a spare cigarette. He usually sends them off with a flick of his middle finger or a death stare that sends them running.

“Because I’ve had a really shitty day, and if I don’t give myself something to do with my hands I’m going to fucking explode.”

Kurt can tell he’s not kidding – he really does look like he’s seconds from combustion. The boy is unlike the other men and women that have approached him before. He’s certainly the youngest – Kurt can’t imagine he’s any older than he is, unless he’s just an unfortunately short adult. Kurt would be lying if he didn’t admit that he sees a lot himself in the boy – he’s actually pretty sure he owns the same studded belt he’s wearing low on his hips. Most importantly, he doesn’t look like he’s here for conversation.

Kurt’s not big on sharing, but he figures losing one cigarette won’t kill him – in fact, it might even buy him a few more days of life. He tosses the boy one of his last remaining cigarettes, snorting when he stumbles over himself in his haste to catch it. The boy leans up against the car to the left of him, lighting up and plugging in his headphones as he takes his first drag.

Kurt settles back against his windshield, turning back to the battered copy of Wuthering Heights he was able to swipe from the McKinley library. It’s dreadfully dull and pedantic, but SparkNotes can only get him so far. He glances over at the boy in between the remaining drags of his own cigarette. He cranes his neck just slightly, trying to make out the vaguely familiar song he can hear spilling from his headphones.

“What?” the boy sasses when he realizes Kurt is staring.

“Are you listening to Katy Perry?” Kurt asks, struggling to hold in his laughter. His brain refuses to reconcile the idea of this guy – clad in black and studs – listening to Teenage Dream.

He flushes, turning down the volume on his phone. “Fuck off,” he retorts, crossing his arms defensively.

Kurt actually feels a bit bad for a flash of a second – he knows all too well that his own music taste doesn’t exactly match the image he projects. He only breaks out his showtunes playlist when he knows he’s completely alone.

“So… what’s so shitty about your day?” he offers in an attempt at making amends. It’s not a great opener, but he’s pretty rusty when it comes to making polite conversation.

The boy’s thick brows knit together as he gives Kurt an incredulous look. Kurt turns back to his book, instantly regretting his decision to actually talk to someone for once.

“I got locked out of my car,” the boy mumbles, kicking a soda can near his foot. “It’s a piece of shit. Usually I can barely get it to start, but today it decided that it didn’t want to unlock either.”

Kurt nods, waiting a beat until he’s sure the boy is done before speaking up. “If you’re ever able to get back in, you should take it to the autobody shop on Whitman.” He reaches into his pocket, flipping through crushed dollar bills and frozen yogurt punch cards until he finds what he was looking for. He slides off of his car and hands the frayed and coffee-stained business card to the boy, tossing his spent cigarette to the ground and snuffing it with the toe of his boot.

“I don’t think I could afford to fix whatever’s wrong with it,” the boy confesses meekly.

“Tell them Kurt sent you. They’ll give you a discount,” Kurt says before turning on his heels and getting back into his car, watching in his rearview mirror as the boy frowns at the business card one last time before tucking it into his pocket.

* * *

Kurt doesn’t expect that he’ll run into the boy again, and he certainly doesn’t expect to run into him just three days later. He doesn’t spend much time at the shop these days. It doesn’t feel the same with Smith running the place now. He’s not allowed to hang out in the back office and play darts anymore – he can either pull his weight or leave.

He only decides to swing by that afternoon because he’d been suspended for the remainder of the day after mouthing off to Mr. Schue about his inability to actually pronounce anything in the language he’s supposed to be teaching – a punishment that was well worth it to see the look on his face. He knows there’s nothing good on TV at this hour, and sometimes when he works at the shop a customer will recognize him and slide a 10 or 20 dollar bill into his coveralls. It’s one of the few perks of being the town sob story.

He’s elbow deep in a Pontiac GTO when a familiar face slides up to him.

“So, you’re the Hummel of Hummel Tires and Lube,” the boy muses, leaning up against the side of the Pontiac and smirking at the startled look on Kurt’s face.

“Who told you that?” he snaps. It’s not a secret to most of the people in Lima that he’s the heir to the Hummel autobody throne, but he’d rather keep it under wraps from those who didn’t already know.

The boy nods his head back at Smith, who’s already moved on to their latest customer. Kurt rolls his eyes, making a mental note to tell Smith to mind his business before he leaves for the day.

“So, you were able to get back into your car,” Kurt remarks, pushing past the boy to start examining the car parked behind him.

Kurt’s more or less mastered the ability to identify the make and model of a car within a couple of seconds – but this car throws him for a loop. If he didn’t know any better, he’d assume the boy had brought it in after getting into a minor fender bender. There’s hardly an inch of it that isn’t battered and worn down. Kurt’s seen some rough looking vehicles – but this one is by far the sorriest sight he’s seen yet.

“Just barely,” the boy mumbles, kicking at the car’s right front tire. “I think these are her last days.”

Kurt doesn’t need to do a full examination of the car to know that he’s probably right. He’s surprised Smith even let the car into the shop – it’s clearly beyond any types of repairs they could handle.

“I could give you a fresh coat of paint so she looks pretty when you drop her off at the junkyard,” Kurt offers as he pops up the top – though he doubts he’ll find anything worth saving.

“Ha ha,” the boy replies dryly. He runs a hand through his curls with a groan, giving another halfhearted kick to the passenger door this time. “Fuck,” he mutters, more to himself than to Kurt.

“If it’s any consolation, we can tow it to the junkyard for you,” he says as he lowers the hood back down.

“How am I supposed to get back home?” the boy snaps, digging his hands into the pockets of his bomber jacket.

“There’s actually this brand-new thing called the bus – it’s very exciting,” Kurt sasses back with a smirk.

But the boy clearly isn’t the mood for Kurt’s sense of humor. He narrows his eyes at him, pulling one hand out of his pocket to flip him off. “Fuck you,” he adds for good measure before turning on his heels and walking out of the shop.

“Jesus Kurt, can you try not to scare off the customers for one day?” Smith shouts at him from across the shop, throwing his hands up in defeat when all Kurt does is shrug in response.

* * *

Once again, Kurt doesn’t anticipate that he’ll ever see the boy again – but of course, he does. And once again, it happens in the last place he expects to see him.

The McKinley cafeteria is a cesspool of mind-numbing gossip and diseases just waiting to be sexually transmitted. He tries to spend as little time there as he can, but Principal Figgins’ decision to revoke the seniors’ outside lunch privileges throws a major wrench in that plan. If he’s lucky he can find a table in a dimly lit corner where he can sit by himself and listen to music until the bell rings. On his unlucky days, he shares half of the table with whatever poor misguided soul has been cast away from their usual lunch table, sitting in mutual silence and refusing to look at one another until they go their separate ways.

He notices him almost immediately. He sticks out like a sore thumb – a cloud of black and grey in a sea of letterman jackets and pompoms. He scans the room with wide Bambi-like eyes, pushing past the crowds to secure himself a spot at the last empty table. Kurt smirks as the boy takes his first bite of the cafeteria’s specialty of the day: a questionable pulled pork stew, watching in amusement as he immediately spits it out into his napkin. He’s clearly new – anyone who’s spent more than a day at McKinley knows to never order anything that isn’t prepackaged or arrived frozen in the back of a truck.

“If you had been able to take a joke I would’ve offered you a ride home,” Kurt announces in lieu of a greeting as he sets his tray down across from the boy.

“What?” he mumbles before he’s even looked up from his tray, startled to see Kurt sitting across from him.

“The Lima bus system sucks. You’re probably better off walking,” he muses. It’s true. He’d only tried to take the public bus once during his sophomore year when his own car had been in the shop for a week. He’d spent 40 minutes waiting for the bus before he gave up and decided to walk the two and a half miles to McKinley for the rest of the week.

“It was fine,” the boy says with a shrug, pushing his fork lamely through his pork stew. “I’ll get used to it.”

“You could ride with me,” Kurt says without thinking. He’s not sure why he says it. He has no idea where this guy lives – for all he knows he lives on the opposite side of Lima. He doesn’t even know his _name,_ yet here he is, offering to spend time alone with him in a car twice a day.

Try as he might, he’s not all that different from the person he was before everything changed. He still feels guilty when he causes havoc, and he still recoils when he hurts someone, physically or otherwise. The part of him that still feels an obligation to be a good person feels for this strange newcomer, who’s clearly having a rough go of it. He’s numb to a lot of things, but he’s not numb to empathy. At least not yet.

“How do I know you’re not a serial killer?” he asks with a raised brow.

“Oh, I am,” Kurt replies quickly.

It’s the first time he’s seen the boy smile. It’s a really, _really_ nice smile.

* * *

The boy’s name is Blaine.

He doesn’t find this out immediately – in fact, it takes him two weeks. It becomes an inside joke of sorts, that Kurt doesn’t know his name. He assigns his new companion a variety of nicknames – starting with Katy Cat and settling on his personal favorite: bean boy, a name Blaine earns for himself after he pledges to never eat anything from the McKinley cafeteria ever again, choosing to live off a diet of ramen packets and canned beans instead.

Kurt doesn’t know much about Blaine even after two weeks of carpooling. He knows where he lives – a townhouse that’s, conveniently enough, only two blocks over from his own home. The steps up to the townhouse’s front door look like they’re on the brink of collapse, and the roof looks like it’s in desperate need of a patch up, but Kurt keeps those observations to himself.

He knows that Blaine has four roommates. Three of them are students at Lima Community College, and one is a junior manager at the Gap at the North Ridge Mall. He doesn’t ask what a high school student is doing living with a bunch of college aged kids – but it doesn’t stop him from coming up with his own theories.

They don’t say much during the 15-minute drive to and from McKinley. They’re both perfectly content with sitting in comfortable silence, with the exception of the radio. They find out early on that, Katy Perry aside, they have similar taste when it comes to music. Kurt figures it’s selfish for them to each take up their own table at the cafeteria if they’re both just going to sit in silence anyway, so they join forces – Blaine always taking the left-hand side and Kurt taking the right, never saying more than hello and goodbye.

It's strange, having someone around so often and never feeling the need to say much of anything. But it’s nice too, Kurt decides, having someone else around.

* * *

Sometimes Blaine joins him in the parking lot. It takes a month before Kurt extends the invitation, and it takes another week before Blaine takes him up on it. They split a pack of Oreos, arguing for several minutes about the merits of licking the cream off first as opposed to eating the cookie whole. Blaine scoffs when Kurt reveals that he’s never tried Oreos dipped in peanut butter – promptly hopping off the hood of the car and returning ten minutes later with a jar of Skippy.

“What happened to ‘I can barely afford ramen this week’?” Kurt teases – he had given half of his own sandwich to Blaine at lunch when he’d revealed that he’d run out of groceries for the week.

“Who said I paid for it?” Blaine replies with a raised brow, knocking his Oreo against Kurt’s before scarfing it down.

Kurt smirks, reaching out to wipe away the bit of peanut butter Blaine’s managed to smear across his cheek. “Didn’t think you had it in you, bean boy.”

Blaine doesn’t say anything – but Kurt doesn’t miss the way his cheeks flush as Kurt licks the peanut butter off the pad of his thumb.

* * *

“Wanna come back to my place?” Kurt proposes on a Friday afternoon.

They’re sprawled out on the picnic tables to the right of the McDonalds behind the mall, tossing French fries as a peace offering to a nearby menacing squad of geese. They’d considered trying to sneak into the Lima Cineplex, but there’s nothing playing that’s worth the potential slap on the wrist.

“For what?” Blaine asks, waving away the goose that’s gotten dangerously close to his chicken nuggets.

“Fucking, mostly,” Kurt says casually, as though he’s discussing the weather. “We could order pizza too, if you want,” he adds when Blaine blinks up at him in confusion.

It’s something Kurt has considered suggesting since that first afternoon in the parking lot. It’s not that he was too nervous to ask – most things don’t scare him anymore. He’s mostly concerned about the potential awkwardness that could come with Blaine turning him down. He’s still a human, rejection still hurts him – and he’d rather not have to be stuck giving rides for the rest of the school year to someone he’s embarrassed himself in front of. But he’s confident Blaine feels the same way he does, if the way he blushes when Kurt so much as looks his way is any indication.

“Okay,” Blaine answers just as casually as Kurt had asked, tossing his last chicken nugget to the bothersome goose, smirking when it smacks it right in the beak.

Kurt snorts, biting his lip when Blaine turns back to him with a very new look in his eyes.

* * *

This very new thing slots easily into their respective routines. Neither of them will say it out loud, but they don’t really have anyone else besides each other to spend time with. Soon Kurt doesn’t even bother asking Blaine if he wants to come over after school – he drives straight to his house as soon as Blaine climbs into the passenger seat.

Kurt likes sex with Blaine – and he has a hunch that Blaine likes sex with him, too. Sex with Blaine is easy – it’s teasing and giggles in between hot kisses and breathy moans. It’s quite the opposite of what he’s come to expect from sex. There’s no hesitance or awkward bumping of knees against groins – it’s just mutual want and a fervent desire to make the other come apart in the best possible way.

What Kurt likes most about sex with Blaine is that he doesn’t ask questions. He never asks why Kurt always has the house to himself. He never asks about the photos hanging up in the living room. He never asks about Kurt’s scars, even when he runs his fingers over them for what feels like the thousandth time. Blaine is content with waiting for Kurt to offer whatever parts of himself he feels comfortable exposing.

“Is that a vape pen?” Kurt asks in surprise when Blaine pulls a small black device from his discarded jeans pocket.

“Yeah. Why?” he asks as he settles back into bed, not bothering to cover himself back up, continuing to bask in all of his naked-post-sex glory.

“What are you? Fourteen?” Kurt teases as Blaine takes his first inhale.

Blaine rolls his eyes. “Excuse me for trying to kick the nicotine addiction while I’m still young.” He holds the pen out to Kurt. “Wanna try?”

Kurt scoffs, gently pushing Blaine’s hand aside. “No thanks. One less thing to get addicted to.”

Blaine shrugs, taking one more drag from the pen before setting it aside on the nightstand. “Vaping is better than smoking you know,” he says as he settles back in beside Kurt, lazily slinging an arm around Kurt’s waist.

“I’m shocked,” Kurt replies sarcastically, letting his fingers absentmindedly chase the goosebumps blossoming along Blaine’s arm.

“I’m serious!” Blaine protests. “It doesn’t make your clothes stink, and your breath can smell like cherries instead of burnt ash.”

“Is this your way of telling me that my breath stinks?” Kurt asks with a smirk.

Blaine flushes, trying to hide his reddened cheeks by burying his face in the crook of Kurt’s neck. When he reemerges, he pulls Kurt in for a kiss that goes from unexpected and sweet to heated in record time.

“Does that answer your question?” he teases when they break apart, both far too spent already to get themselves riled up again.

“Mm, it does – thank you,” Kurt replies, pulling Blaine in for one last kiss before rolling off the bed and pulling on his sweatpants.

“You should consider it,” Blaine calls out to him.

“What?” Kurt calls back as he steps into the kitchen, not paying Blaine much mind as he looks through the fridge for something to make them for dinner.

“Quitting smoking,” he clarifies as he follow him into the kitchen, now clad in just his boxer briefs. He leans up against the counter beside Kurt, arms crossed. “You could live longer.”

“Why would I want that?” Kurt asks as he pulls out a carton of eggs and a green onion.

He’s not concerned when Blaine doesn’t reply – silence is still something they’re comfortable with. He looks up from the frying pan to ask Blaine how he wants his eggs, only realizing how his response may have come off when he sees the look on Blaine’s face. Kurt opens his mouth to explain – he’s a cynical little shit, but he hasn’t let himself go down that path of thought. Or at least not recently anyway.

“It would give you more time to hang out with me,” Blaine answers before Kurt can explain himself.

It’s stupid, and Blaine’s wearing a cheesy shit-eating grin, but it makes Kurt laugh louder than he has in months, possibly a year.

“You’re a dick.” He smacks Blaine with a green onion before he lets himself be pulled in for a kiss that is far too heated to be taking place in the kitchen.

Once Blaine heads home for the night, Kurt cleans out his nightstand drawer – tossing out his last remaining packet of cigarettes.

* * *

Blaine manages to land a job as a bagger at the very same Stop & Shop that Kurt loves to terrorize. It means they have to spend less time together, but it was an inevitability. As comfortable as they’ve gotten in their routine of Kurt driving Blaine to and from school, he’ll need to get himself a new car eventually – or at the very least a bike. Plus, he still needs to fund his ramen and bean diet.

Kurt resolves to find himself a new parking lot to hang out in, not wanting to land Blaine in any hot water now that he’s employed by the enemy. Several of the employees recognize him the few times he gives Blaine a ride home after his closing shift, either giving him a nod of recognition or keeping their eyes straight ahead as they walk by him.

The overzealous employee, who Kurt now knows is named Tara, is just as much of a nightmare to work with as Kurt would’ve imagined. Blaine doesn’t often talk about work when he’s with Kurt, but the few times he does, he spends it complaining about Tara – who appears to have decided that it’s her mission to make Blaine’s life hell.

Kurt rolls his eyes the instant he sees her walking side by side with Blaine as they exit the store, locking the doors behind them. He kicks himself off of the hood of his car, opening up the door to the driver’s seat when he hears that familiar shrill voice over his shoulder.

“And tell your boyfriend that he can’t hang out in the parking lot anymore!” she barks, trailing behind Blaine like a lost puppy.

Blaine doesn’t bother replying to her, wordlessly walking past Kurt to get into the passenger’s seat. He looks exhausted, which one would expect from working the closing shift – but Kurt knows all too well that Blaine doesn’t tire easily. He frowns at the deep-set dark circles lining his eyes, slamming the door shut behind him and turning on his heels to face Tara head on.

“Why don’t you fucking do your job for once and stop harassing your employees?” he shouts, relishing the way she immediately cowers at the mere sound of his voice. “He’s not my boyfriend, leave him out of my shit,” he tacks on, giving her one last glare for good measure before getting into the car.

He starts up the car as quickly as he can, not wanting to give Tara a chance to decide if she wants to be brave or not. He keeps his eyes on the road, hardly able to see through the lingering fog and first few droplets of an approaching storm. He misses the way Blaine gazes at him for the rest of the drive – eyes glossed over from tears and the worst kind of hurt.

* * *

Blaine becomes unusually reserved after that night. Kurt’s not the most observant, but it’s impossible not to see that something is bothering Blaine. He doesn’t think much of it at first – school has become more of a nuisance for both of them as of late with midterms quickly approaching. Kurt doesn’t care much about grades anymore, but Blaine does. It’s strange, really – how intense he can be about his grades. He brushes Kurt off the few times he asks about it, saying that it’s just something he’s used to.

They spend more time sitting in silence, reading or highlighting or writing than they do talking – and the few times they do talk are to quiz one another on what they’ve learned. The sex is less frequent, too – though it’s not any less exciting. After two weeks, Kurt finds himself begging for midterms to finally end.

“I’m taking you to my favorite place in the known universe,” Kurt announces when Blaine gets into the car after he’s completed his final midterm.

“Oh really?” Blaine asks, interest piqued.

Kurt hums as he starts up the car and tosses the AUX cord to Blaine. “Prepare to have your mind blown.”

Blaine isn’t nearly as mind blown as Kurt had hoped.

“Frozen yogurt? Seriously?” he asks as they pull in to the Fro-Yo-Mama parking lot.

“Have you tried it before?” Kurt asks as he quickly unbuckles his seatbelt.

“No, b—”

“Then I don’t want to hear it,” Kurt protests, not bothering to wait for Blaine as he makes a beeline for the store.

Blaine straggles but eventually joins him, holding his empty container warily. “How does this work exactly?”

Kurt rolls his eyes, gesturing to the sign above the various flavor handles. “It’s self-explanatory,” he replies dryly. “You get whatever flavors you want, add your toppings, pay.”

“And this is your favorite place in the known universe?” Blaine parrots as he watches Kurt pull the cheesecake flavor handle.

“Do I judge you for what you enjoy?” Kurt sasses, turning to Blaine with narrowed eyes.

“Yes. All the time,” Blaine replies quickly, holding back a laugh. “Yesterday you told me I was stupid because the Lion King is my favorite Disney movie.”

Kurt scoffs, pushing past Blaine to get to the chocolate flavor handle. “Yeah, because you _are_ stupid. The Lion King is the worst Disney movie. Even Beyoncé couldn’t salvage it,” he explains, as though it’s common sense.

Blaine doesn’t bother fighting back, sighing as he reaches for the vanilla flavor handle. Kurt doesn’t even protest his decision to pick the most boring flavor option – because he’s _not_ judgmental, no matter what Blaine says. Kurt waits until Blaine is satisfied with his creation to swipe the container out of his hand, placing it beside him at the register before Blaine can protest.

He opens up his wallet, riffling through until he finds two complete punch cards, pushing them across the counter to the cashier.

“We, uh… we usually only take one complete card at a time,” she says nervously, hand trembling as she goes to hand back one of the cards to Kurt.

All he has to do is glare at her for half a second and she gives in, shuffling to stuff both of the punch cards into the register and handing him two spoons with a nervous smile. Kurt gives her a tightlipped smile as he accepts the spoons, handing Blaine’s container back to him before heading out of the shop.

“How do you do that?” Blaine asks as he trails after Kurt. “Get people to do whatever you want.”

Kurt shrugs, plucking a chunk of a Snickers bar off the top of his mountain of froyo. “People are either scared of me, or they feel bad for me.” He’s fairly confident this instance was the former, but he’s often surprised by how many people seem to know him.

Kurt guides them through the parking lot to a nearby park, spreading himself out on the first bench he sees to finish off his frozen yogurt. Blaine perches himself on the edge of the bench, eyes focused on his own, still untouched, dessert.

“Why do people feel bad for you?” he asks.

Kurt tenses, biting down on the spoon in his mouth. He knew this was bound to come up at some point. It’s a miracle Blaine hasn’t heard his story from someone else by now – if there’s one thing the entire population of Lima loves, it’s vicious gossip.

It’s the first time anyone has asked Kurt what happened. Most people either knew or found out without asking him directly. This would be the first time he’d have to explain what happened. He hasn’t talked about it in months, not since it all started to feel more like reality and less like a bad dream.

But he’s not ready yet. It’s been almost a full year, but he still doesn’t want to talk about it – not to anyone, but especially not to Blaine, who’s the only person left that has the power to break him.

So, he stays quiet and Blaine stays quiet, too. It’s another thing he likes about Blaine – he never pushes.

* * *

“Have you been seeing anyone else?”

Kurt’s well aware that this crosses every line that he’s drawn, but he tells himself it’s a necessary evil. He’s sick of having to spend $10-$15 on a new box of condoms every week, and Blaine had already suggested that they go without once before – long before Kurt was ready for that potential level of intimacy.

“I see lots of people. Every day, in fact,” Blaine replies calmly, his right hand still tracing lazy patterns along Kurt’s thigh.

Kurt smacks him square in the chest, knocking the wind right out of him. “You know what I meant, dumb ass.”

Blaine giggles, squeezing Kurt’s arm to his chest, protecting himself from any further punishment.

“Not really,” he answers once his laughter subsides. “Me and my roommate had a thing, once or twice. But that was months ago.”

“Which roommate?” Kurt asks with intrigue – he can only imagine the kind of pheromones that must stench up that apartment. Five young adult men, one bathroom, and no adult supervision? It’s always sounded to him like a recipe for disaster.

“Jeremiah. The blonde,” Blaine answers shyly, as though he’s embarrassed.

Kurt snorts – he has to give it to Blaine, that wasn’t who he was expecting it to be. “The Gap manager?”

Blaine nods, cheeks a soft, rosy pink as he finally releases Kurt’s arm. “You know if he and I got married, the Gap would give me a 50 percent discount,” he retorts with a smirk.

“Well then why didn’t you say anything sooner?” Kurt replies, jumping off of the bed and pulling his jeans back on. “Go, leave me behind – your well-dressed future awaits you,” he says, gesturing to the door with a flourish.

Blaine rolls his eyes as he walks up to Kurt, only to tackle him back down onto the bed, holding him down by the wrists as he runs his lips along his jaw. “I think I’d rather stick around here a little longer.”

* * *

“If you found out you only had one day left to live, how would you spend it?” Blaine asks.

They’re spread out across Kurt’s backyard – Blaine sprawled out on the grass and Kurt curled up on a lawn chair. They’d spent the night exchanging sips from a bottle of whiskey Blaine had managed to swipe from one of his roommates, which led them to the not-so-bright idea to spend the night outside trying to count stars. Thanks to Lima’s light pollution, they never make it past seven.

“How cliché of you,” Kurt teases, wrapping the blanket he’d dragged over from the living room tighter around himself. The bitter winter chill has started approaching faster than either of them anticipated.

“Humor me. Unless you have something better to do,” Blaine replies, braiding blades of grass together.

Kurt ponders the question – though he doesn’t need much time to settle on an answer. “I’d go to New York.”

Blaine props himself up on his elbows, looking at Kurt with a dazed look in his eyes. “Seriously?”

“Hey – you’re the one that asked, you don’t get to judge my answer.” Kurt tosses his discarded boot at Blaine’s head, pouting when Blaine manages to just narrowly dodge getting hit.

“I’m not judging!” Blaine protests, respectfully tossing Kurt’s boot back to him. “But New York isn’t exactly a train ride away. You’d spend a good chunk of your last day on Earth traveling,” he explains.

Kurt hums in thought, considering Blaine’s point before shrugging. “Nope, I’d still want to go to New York.”

“Why New York?”

Kurt shrugs again, looking up at the sky to trace the patterns of the few stars they can see. “It’s something I’ve always wanted to do. My dad always said he would take me over the summer, but…”

He trails off, realizing that it’s the first time he’s mentioned his dad in front of Blaine. When he peeks over at him, he can see the cogs turning as Blaine starts to put the pieces together. He waits for Blaine to say something, to ask him to tell his story, but instead, Blaine picks himself up and squeezes himself onto the lawn chair, ignoring Kurt’s protests as he tightly packs them together, wet grass still clinging to his clothes.

“Maybe we can go to New York sometime,” he proposes once Kurt has accepted his fate, wrapping an arm around Blaine’s shoulders and pulling him in.

Kurt bites his lip as he gazes down at Blaine, so hopeful and respectful and charming in his own odd way. He’s the one good thing Kurt’s had in a really long time.

“I’d like that.”

* * *

They spend Christmas together. It’s an obvious decision – neither of them have anyone else to spend the day with. They make a hard and fast rule not to buy each other gifts, choosing instead to invest the bit of spending money they have between them on a veritable feast of takeout from various cuisines.

It’s the first time Kurt comes over to Blaine’s place. All of his roommates are back home with their families for the holidays – it’s the first time he’s had the place to himself since he moved in. Kurt welcomes the chance to break up their routine. He doesn’t like the idea of spending Christmas in his own house – it’s so dark and so quiet it sometimes feels suffocating, so unlike what Kurt had once been accustomed to.

Kurt shoots down Blaine’s suggestion that they watch _The Lion King_ – insisting that Kurt just needs to watch it again to understand why it’s top tier Disney. He tells Blaine to drop it with a certain edge to his voice that makes it clear he doesn’t want to talk about this anymore. He pushes all thoughts of the movie to the back of his mind, not letting his stomach twist at the mere idea of watching a cartoon lion lose his dad.

Blaine drops the subject as soon as he senses Kurt’s apprehension, brows furrowing in thought before he suddenly breaks out into a wide grin.

“Wait here,” he says before dashing off towards his room, returning with a package wrapped tight in foil.

“I thought we said no gifts,” Kurt protests when Blaine hands him the package.

“Just open it, idiot,” Blaine chides, grinning like a child as he watches Kurt pull back the foil.

Kurt tries to hide his confusion as he unwraps what looks like a corner piece of a brownie. He’s prepared to ask Blaine why he was keeping a pastry in his bedroom instead of the fridge when the smell hits him like a truck.

“Jesus, where did you get this?” he asks as he pulls off a piece of the brownie, sniffing suspiciously at the incredibly potent pastry.

“Jeremiah knows a guy who knows another guy,” Blaine says with a shrug, breaking off a piece for himself.

The brownie is as potent as Kurt suspected it would be – all it takes is a single piece, hardly even a quarter of the already tiny brownie, for him to start seeing time written on the walls. Somehow, they wind up in one of Blaine’s roommates’ bedroom – Mike, the one with the biggest room. They sprawl out across his King size bed, giggling when Blaine accidentally kicks the framed photo of Mike and his girlfriend, Tina, off the nightstand. Kurt’s clutching the bedsheets for dear life, worried that if he lets go he’ll float away into the ceiling. Blaine can’t stop laughing – everything is the funniest thing ever.

“Kurt,” Blaine squeaks out moments after his latest giggle fit.

“Mmmmm,” Kurt replies, keeping his eyes trained on the ceiling, worried that if he looks at Blaine, his curls will morph into tentacles again.

“Are we dating?”

He’s not sure why Blaine chooses to ask this question now of all times, and he’s certainly not in the right frame of mind to give a coherent answer.

“No,” he says, because it’s all he can think to come up with.

He hazards a peek at Blaine. He doesn’t morph into Medusa, but he does look disappointed – more so than he would’ve expected.

“If we were, I could lose you,” he adds, because he doesn’t want Blaine to be sad anymore. Telling the truth for once won’t kill him, he decides.

Blaine stays quiet, and Kurt worries that he’ll start crying or never speak again or worse, tell him to leave. Instead, he reaches out to take Kurt’s hand, prying it from its death grip on the sheets, not looking away from the ceiling.

“Okay.”

* * *

It takes six months for him to tell Blaine. The day he does, it weighs on him from the moment he wakes up. There are more looks of sympathy than usual as he goes about his day on autopilot. It feels like that first week all over again – the looks, the whispers, the “I’m so sorry”s. Blaine notices, but as always, he doesn’t push for anything more than Kurt’s willing to give.

Blaine decides to call out sick from his evening shift at the Stop & Shop. He’s been telling Kurt about a hiking trail in one of the parks in Westerville for months, always saying that they should find a time to drive out there and check it out. He doesn’t give Kurt a choice in the matter that afternoon, loading the address of the park into Google Maps and instructing Kurt to drive as soon as they’re in the car. Kurt doesn’t protest. He needs the distraction.

This decision is unwise for a number of reasons. They’re not exactly wearing hiking attire, and the park is mostly shrouded in darkness by the time they arrive nearly two hours later – but Blaine insists. It’s a short hike up to the place he wants to take Kurt, a small crevice cut into the side of a hill, overlooking a small, manmade lake. The lake gleams as it reflects the soft light from the few lights lining the docks around its edges. It’s odd – Kurt never would’ve imagined there could be something this beautiful in a place like Ohio. But then again, he found Blaine, didn’t he?

They sit in silence on the top of a cluster of rocks, admiring the view and the sounds of the world falling asleep.

“My dad died a year ago today.”

He’s not sure why he chose that particular moment to say it. Perhaps it’s because it’s all he can think about, and he’s tired of holding everything inside of himself all of the time. Blaine blinks up at him, lips parted in a silent gasp.

“His timing was pretty convenient, actually,” Kurt continues with a humorless laugh. “He waited until the day after my 18th birthday to finally let go.”

Blaine does let out a quiet sound of surprise this time, remaining completely still as he waits to see if Kurt has anything more he wants to say. He slides off of the rock once he’s sure Kurt’s finished, crossing the short distance between them and wrapping his arms around Kurt’s middle. He buries his nose in the crook of Kurt’s neck, his favorite place to be, and says nothing. Kurt sniffles quietly, letting himself be held as he looks out on the lake for as long as he can, until he can’t see past the tears anymore.

Blaine certainly isn’t the type of person Kurt imagined he’d be spending this day with, but he likes to think that his dad, wherever he might be, is happy that they’ve found each other.

* * *

Blaine tells Kurt his story a week later. He slams the passenger side door shut when Kurt picks him up that morning, earning him a stern look. Kurt’s made it very clear that his car is his most precious possession.

“Sorry,” Blaine mumbles, avoiding Kurt’s eyes as he snaps his seatbelt on.

“Did Sam hog all the hot water again?” Kurt asks as he starts off towards McKinley.

Blaine doesn’t reply, and Kurt’s prepared to drop the subject when he throws him for a loop. “My dad called me.”

Kurt’s eyes widen slightly at this reveal. He’d been under the impression that Blaine’s dad either wasn’t in the picture or wasn’t in the land of the living anymore. He had no idea they were still in contact with one another – or perhaps they weren’t, based on Blaine’s reaction.

“Just to chat?” he jokes, half in an attempt at humor and half in hopes of an answer. Unlike Blaine, he often can’t keep his curiosity to himself.

Blaine shakes his head, crossing his arms and propping his foot up on the dashboard. Kurt doesn’t protest this time – he’ll let Blaine get away with it, just this once.

“Apparently my aunts have been asking about me. He figured he owed them an answer that wasn’t a total lie,” he mutters.

Kurt nods, but doesn’t press any further, he gives Blaine the time he needs.

“He said I could come home,” he finally admits once they’ve pulled into the McKinley parking lot.

Kurt stiffens, his knuckles going bone white as he tightens his grip on the steering wheel. “Will you?” he asks, eyes fixed on his hands. He doesn’t want to think about what it would mean to not have Blaine in his life anymore.

Blaine’s silence is the worst kind of torture, and if he doesn’t say something soon Kurt may explode.

“No,” he says, finally, and Kurt lets himself exhale.

Before they get out of the car, he pulls Blaine in for a kiss that takes his breath away.

* * *

“Hey,” Blaine greets as he takes his seat at their usual lunch table.

“Hey,” Kurt replies, not looking up from the trigonometry worksheet he’s been slaving over for the past hour.

Kurt pushes the worksheet aside with a groan after ten minutes, giving up on his already-slim hope that he could make it through this class with a B-. He’ll take the C. His brow furrows at the look on Blaine’s face, his chin propped up on his hand and his eyes dreamier than usual.

“What?” Kurt probes, taking a bite of his ham sandwich.

“I love you,” Blaine says as though it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Kurt swallows hard around his bite of sandwich, sheepishly wiping a glob of mayonnaise from the corner of his mouth as he gazes at Blaine dumbly.

“I love you too,” he replies.

It feels like the most normal thing in the world.

* * *

Kurt groans as he hoists the last of the boxes into the trunk, wiping his dust coated hands off on his jeans “I think we’re good,” he calls out to Blaine as he closes the trunk with a thump.

“’Kay,” Blaine calls back. “Thanks for everything, guys!” he thanks his roommates, giving them all one last fist bump, and Sam one last hug, before happily climbing into the passenger seat.

“Ready?” Kurt asks, rewarding Blaine’s hard work with a kiss before he starts plugging the address into the GPS.

“As I’ll ever be,” Blaine replies, turning to flip Sam and Mike off one last time as they jeer and catcall at them until they’re pulling out of the driveway.

They go as long as they can without stopping, deciding that their ‘no stopping until we pass New York state lines' rule was a bit over the top. They pull over at a road stop just outside of Pittsburgh for sustenance, indulging in oversized cups of iced coffee and greasy cheeseburgers. They stretch their legs as best they can before trudging back to the car for the next leg of the journey. Blaine stops Kurt when they’re steps away from the car, hooking a finger through his belt loop and pinning him to the passenger side door.

“Hey.” He smirks, running his thumb along the smooth patch of exposed skin between Kurt’s shirt and the hem of his pants.

“Hi,” Kurt replies, letting himself be distracted. He slings one arm over Blaine’s shoulder, tugging at the curls at the base of his neck.

Blaine leans in, lips hovering over his, smiling as he whispers, “I think we might be dating.”

It would be uncouth to laugh with Blaine so close, so Kurt bites down on his lip to keep the laughter at bay.

“I think we might be,” he says before kissing Blaine right there, where anyone could see, in the dim light of the setting summer sun.

They let themselves get lost in it, kissing and whispering words of love and praise and adoration against each other’s skin. They know they still have hours of the journey left to go, and they don’t want to start things off on the wrong foot with their new landlord by arriving in the middle of the night. But they’re filled to bursting with nerves and excitement and the purest kind of joy either of them has felt in years, so they decide that their sweet little apartment in Brooklyn can wait just a few more minutes.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! :)


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